tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54672027204399939932024-03-13T20:50:49.449-07:00to open the blinds or not to open the blindsfilibusterTractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.comBlogger150125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-86179877181965053522012-05-07T00:56:00.000-07:002012-05-07T00:56:02.589-07:00the divide is greatIt's hard to remember that the people we love the most are dead. Sometimes it seems like everything is normal. Maybe they're back in Idaho, going about their business. Maybe they're singing songs in their own language with inflection that reminds you exactly of the parts of their speech that you love. It's hard sometimes to mourn. Those people we lose still fill the space that they occupy, but the energy is different. The room my mom spent her final days in, has returned to the cave where I go to do my guy stuff - tuning guitars, oiling various things and inspecting climbing equipment. The gravity in there is returning to normal after one year, five months and two days. My wife is pregnant with the child my Mom spent her entire life saving love for. I think about which story I'll tell my son or daughter first to introduce them to their dead grandmother. I wonder which stories my sisters will tell my child when it comes time to introduce him or her to their own version of our mother.<br />
My mom was a tender, vivacious woman with an abundance of passion and enthusiasm. She believed in striving. She did not fear hard work. She listened to the music she played on the stereo. She was a terrible cook, but for some reason I love that about her.<br />
I think about her everyday.Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-4762948715477898232012-02-13T00:51:00.000-08:002012-02-13T00:51:58.913-08:00Zeppelin and bowling<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">When my mom was dying, Bon Iver was the record that I listened to and cried. It was their first record. Over and over I rode home from school and listened to that record and pedaled through tears, shouting sometimes to myself, ignoring the fact that anybody on the street could hear me. Losing people on the slow bar is hard. My uncle was diagnosed with a brain tumor a couple of weeks ago. Goddamn if I didn't shout as loud as my lungs would allow tonight. The music was different, but I have to say that riding home through tears feels the same for my mom as for one of my favorite uncles. Kevin is my Mom's younger brother. He's wicked smart, funny as hell and fit. Kevin is the uncle that taught me about rock music. I used to go to his house and play Led Zeppelin records. His stereo was so cool, and his records were the shit!!! His roommate introduced me to Ice Tea before they were on MTV, and also opened the door for culinary exploration when he suggested that I develop a taste for Artichokes, because it was a 'hot' date food.</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">My first memory of Kevin is at some strange house, when he came to visit us. He was a kid! I was 3 years old maybe and he was noisy, enthusiastic and super-fun. He shouted a lot about me as if I was a pro-bowler when I rolled a tennis ball to him. Meanwhile, he and my mom chatted on the porch. I love Kevin. Whatever I know about being a man in the world I learned mainly from Kevin and my uncle Keith. Between the two of them, I had a solid idea of what men did in the world. My mom loved the both of them, and Anna - her sister, and she made a point of making sure I knew each of them. She sent me to their houses for nights and weekends and sometimes weeks. I knew them in my own way, and I learned from them in a way that only I could learn from each of them. They shared similar lessons with my sisters, and they took from them in a way that only they could take.</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I don't know what to do. I don't know how to deal with this. I want to exercise some profound wisdom, but I'm just bummed out. I feel like somebody is standing on my chest and kicking me in the head. I feel a little bit pessimistic. </div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-70964698466762403512012-01-03T23:21:00.000-08:002012-01-03T23:21:33.332-08:00365 days and counting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/163215_10150371355630603_791965602_16571134_6662441_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/163215_10150371355630603_791965602_16571134_6662441_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>A year ago today, my Mom passed away. She was pretty awesome. There is a depression in the couch, where she spent her final months watching my dogs play and listening to our sounds. She didn't weigh a hundred pounds, but the spot is changed forever. I spent the day reading and listening to music, sitting in her spot. I contemplated doing something to commemorate the occasion, but realized that I don't want to commemorate the occasion of her passing. It represents a soft period at the end of a very sad sentence. A sentence that should have lasted longer - been part of a paragraph. The paragraph should have continued into a beautiful story. Children's voices would be heard laughing and squealing as their grandmother chased them around the yard. Descriptions of sunshine and bike rides would unravel on the page punctuated by quiet moments of beauty and stillness. The description of a woman at peace with the world, satisfied at last and content to spend her days soaking it all in, would meander across the page, like the way she rode her bike uphill. Instead, here I am, writing on this blog for the first time since 2010. The last post was a desperate mantra. Something along the lines of we'll be alright. I told myself that for a long time before I realized that to be alright was not to be the same. I'm still figuring it out. I'll never get to be the same. I can be better.<br />
.<br />
My Mom was a kind woman - tough, and kind. She worked hard all of her life to be better and do better. She didn't give up without a fight and she fought until her last breath. Her death was not a peaceful parting from this world. She battled to live, not because she was afraid of death, but rather, because she wanted to live. She had a lot to live for, and a lot to see.<br />
My mom liked to make jokes when things got bad. In 5th grade, I got pretty beaten up in a skateboarding accident. I was nervous about what kids at school would say. She told me to tell them, "you should have seen the other guy." It was a funny way to respond when somebody said you looked beat. She would throw that joke around occasionally. She looked beat after she died, lying there in bed, small and pale. I imagine her now, smiling and making a fist at me - "you should have seen the other guy!" That would look really bad. That guy is probably still nursing his wounds a year later - walking with a limp and complaining any time the barometer drops.<br />
,<br />
I miss my mom. I miss her every single day. She was good person to have around.Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-32814984429986335732010-12-30T00:39:00.000-08:002010-12-30T00:39:21.029-08:00March 30, 1958Shit. What is there to even say? I guess there is a lot, but it all seems like a very bad dream. The holiday season has been intense. Knowing that this has been my Mom's last thanksgiving, Christmas, and will be her last New Years, is tough. There is so much to acknowledge, and process, but it just seems so surreal. My mom has had cancer for a few years now. For almost a year, my Mom has been in a state of decline. It has been slow and merciful, until right around thanksgiving. Since then it has been merciless and aggressive. Her condition worsens daily, which is notable because I didn't know that the living suffered this way. Her liver is shutting down. She is constantly in pain. She weighs 90 lbs, and has almost zero body fat. She eats less than 400 calories a day. I try to make her comfortable. I try to back off from taking care of her when my sisters and aunt are here, so that they will feel the love of caring. I feel like a failure. I feel embarrassed to have problems when my mother is suffering so much. I feel selfish. I wonder if other people feel guilty in these types of situations, and I hope that nobody has ever been in this situation. This fucking sucks.<br />
.<br />
My mom is going to die in my house. I want that for her. I want her to know that it's alright - that it won't ruin us. I want her to know that we're going to be alright. I want her to be sure that we're going to have children, and lovers and successes and failures. I want her to know that we're going to cherish our memories of her. I want her to know that our successes are her successes, even after she's gone. I want her to know that her life means so much to me; and that her death means. . . I guess I don't know what it means yet. But I know that we will be alright.<br />
.<br />
I want my mom to know that my children will know who she was. They will know that she liked to ride bikes in the sunshine. She liked to work hard when it was worth it. She didn't stop pedaling on steep hills, but would strafe side to side until she reached the top. When we got to the top, she would marvel at the beauty of Mount Hood in the distance, and her children, so healthy and radiant and near. We would tease her for riding twice as far as us to get to the top of the hill, and she would smile, happy to have made it. Our children will know that their grandmother was a kind person. That she would have loved to show them what it meant to be a grandchild. She would have spoiled them terribly, and I would have been annoyed, but I would have complained very quietly, and I would not have pressed the issue. I and my children will celebrate her birthday, March 30th, 1958, for the rest of my life.<br />
.<br />
Things are rough here. But we're going to be alright. I love my mother.Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-11505934762834015372010-12-10T11:32:00.001-08:002010-12-13T19:08:58.943-08:00Aljon Reyes, ladies and well, ladies.<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RgAWsUN4V-g?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RgAWsUN4V-g?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="375" height="385"></embed></object>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-50670351716483898092010-10-29T01:06:00.000-07:002010-10-29T01:06:22.922-07:00Time for a new roommate!I've been thinking all night long about how to address the situation before me. Truthfully, I'm clueless, and I don't expect a revelation anytime soon. I do know that this is a shitty situation, and I don't want to talk about it. But in order to answer the questions that I'd rather not answer when I meet up with my friends, I thought it best to tell it here. My Mother has been battling cancer for a couple of years. She has a type of cancer that attacks the blood. It is aggressive, unrelenting and apparently deadly. Doctors have been very aggressive in dealing with her treatment. She has participated in several studies, and through her effort, we might someday find a cure. Unfortunately, I spoke with her tonight and she informed me that the doctors had nothing left in their bag of tricks. She's being released from the hospital in Seattle and will be moving in with us at my home. We have a room for her, and I'm excited to spend more time with her. We don't know how long she'll be with us, and we're not sure what the future holds. We do know that everybody is concerned, and that we all love her very much. So, I thank you for your concern, and I appreciate that you care. Please stay positive and hope for the best.<br />
cheers,<br />
ETractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-91550000471646913032010-08-25T09:52:00.000-07:002010-08-25T09:53:13.165-07:00Kiln is loaded<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgg90jHqOobWSIZ3REeIQ7mKLqUEYSMbETQ6Abw3dWdxIxKQ3PEJ__3PTRsmqUTjOTxwg2CnMTvScj0tZBV5LGpqdniU-D2GaOq35Qzg4uHd0463QoZ3RZ_yrC9StAsTeGSrNjJgm4zr7/s1600/photo-793166.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgg90jHqOobWSIZ3REeIQ7mKLqUEYSMbETQ6Abw3dWdxIxKQ3PEJ__3PTRsmqUTjOTxwg2CnMTvScj0tZBV5LGpqdniU-D2GaOq35Qzg4uHd0463QoZ3RZ_yrC9StAsTeGSrNjJgm4zr7/s320/photo-793166.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509391603834837810" /></a></p>Firing for four days<br>Pouring molten bronze on Tuesday at 6pm<br>You're invitedTractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-80468571607997747102010-08-15T19:48:00.000-07:002010-08-15T19:49:21.019-07:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTK7kJPx5zxdsFebb0j1_s7-LjODG0abAPiEnRouit4OPPZjKUaEI-sfS_LivLmfpAMphecwO5QvMxN5kqhB1SzVIkVetZQQcryhPhEfXZYf6GManogRFMLndJ7g1l3Iac7fPCtGJJ5tHA/s1600/photo-761020.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTK7kJPx5zxdsFebb0j1_s7-LjODG0abAPiEnRouit4OPPZjKUaEI-sfS_LivLmfpAMphecwO5QvMxN5kqhB1SzVIkVetZQQcryhPhEfXZYf6GManogRFMLndJ7g1l3Iac7fPCtGJJ5tHA/s320/photo-761020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505834375698189570" /></a></p>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-52484660283958448382010-08-02T15:25:00.000-07:002010-08-02T15:34:29.052-07:00oh the horrorHaven't posted in awhile. A lot has been happening, but I'm not allowed to talk about most of the really interesting stuff. Instead I'll just give an account of my morning.<div>7:09am : Got out of bed and yelled at the dog for barking in the back yard. </div><div>10:06am : Got out of bed and climbed into the shower.</div><div>10:11am : Got out of the shower and put my underpants on.</div><div>10:16am : Left the house to go to the hospital.</div><div>11:04am : Doctor Brock gingerly placed two 4 inch long pieces of foam, soaked in some sort of numbing agent in my nasal passage.</div><div>11:17am : Doctor Brock repositioned the broken bone in my nose, using a stainless steal tool and his very strong hands.</div><div>12:11pm : Arrived at work 11 minutes late.</div><div>.</div><div>Aside from that, I've had a nice summer. My job is pleasant, the weather has been nice and I like my friends. I've played some music, and ridden my bike some.</div><div>I bought a kiln and am in the process of constructing a studio at the house. I'm converting said kiln from 208v 3phase to single phase 240v and running the necessary wire and plug to run it.</div><div>I will post pictures of the first batch of pots.</div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-52887104598073553142010-05-03T18:45:00.000-07:002010-05-03T20:08:07.043-07:00Smith<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiONdhA88W_QnGtjsm6X3uV5X7NZuwkXbI7Mp0TQcBhUNWsOJI71pwvmAk3jnxP34tCjHS6mxxoNBWE3AUG8N373uSXoyzX6wkGavQ4A_CY_UB2vXnLf1o95zqj27hX945nHv3jQp3R-Y7I/s1600/CIMG1185.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiONdhA88W_QnGtjsm6X3uV5X7NZuwkXbI7Mp0TQcBhUNWsOJI71pwvmAk3jnxP34tCjHS6mxxoNBWE3AUG8N373uSXoyzX6wkGavQ4A_CY_UB2vXnLf1o95zqj27hX945nHv3jQp3R-Y7I/s320/CIMG1185.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467245155198327522" /></a><br /><br /><br />Last week was rough. I was so glad to get in the car Saturday morning and drive away from it all. Todd is the only one of my friends that likes to camp. Others say they do, but realistically, given the choice between hiking up a huge crag and going to bed when the sun sets, or staying in town, they'd rather hit the bars and sleep in their own bed. I appreciate that as well, but I don't want to do it all the time. Also, I've been really into rock climbing lately and having used my REI dividend for a new rope, I needed to take it out for some action.<div>.</div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VHEjF0vKiuvkLPig8T24qpwNikSJfF87d2zHK8f-gLUOErhAhwELpvxqM4V4SOeU8wQyr_y6kUF9Hn2vyH_YWQqMvuPlTykP14InxqukOpVBVTjpq8IgPVYaDtRhNs5nMFbiA4lIcMX7/s320/CIMG1168.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467244344868884402" /></div><div>.</div><div>We got a late start and I was worried that we might not get a spot in the Bivouac area at Smith Rock. The cool kids call it the bivy. As we drove up</div><div> and over Hood, however, and the sun began to shine, I wasn't worried at all. Instead I was just happy to be doing something awesome. The drive was beautiful, with blue sunny skies and beautiful clouds. We stopped in Terrabonne to check out the local climbing shop, where I picked up a new locking biner and a cheap hat. A german guy was hanging around trying to get a ride back to the park, so we took him with us. He had been in the states since October and had travelled across the country climbing at all the major spots. Smith was to be his last stop before heading back to Germany this Wednesday. Shaking his hand was like lifting a stone.</div><div>.</div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivevyKBcLImizC8gA_ru0jjyopUqwlCMlW3se1FNh3SSqZ1nvTPppRSN7rclckwHRsPDpoQ9tq2whzk8xDDMkfxm4D0tXYvcdafvNPdWdgRU6sAxrkHnKHwDCz4isb8Joe-3AFy8oAQ_9u/s320/CIMG1161.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467245175095831298" /><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUmn_dDN9E0-wP88HvlKfl3MGpbFoEslb7bCjAZHWg3pvEFtzGmPUOkNFaZ8rv4QuAmwCkUAh4PhUuhanRHAWNdrlg6R07Wl3jBIsUnRtPhsBDX9P9uFX4Xsff-22TXLrw0XHeqsZWS71/s320/CIMG1205.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467245166876127042" /></div><div>.</div><div>We parked and quickly set up our tents to secure a spot in the bivy. Luckily the crowd hadn't arrived and we managed a good spot near the cliff. Smith towered above us across the river. I was feeling really excited and completely overwhelmed. As we loaded up our gear, refilled our water bottles and started towards the crag I was feeling pretty great.</div><div>.</div><div>The park sees a lot of traffic, but it was clean. There were hikers, young and old; mountain bikers politely passing with a calm "on your left"; and there were climbers everywhere. The rock is formed of tuff, which is volcanic in origin. It's red and brown and looks amazing in the afternoon and evening sun. We hiked a couple of miles and found a nice secluded spot where I could hike up and set up an anchor. Without a bit more gear we were relegated to top-rope climbing, which was fine because Smith offers plenty of great beginner and intermediate top-rope-able routes. I showed Todd how to set up an anchor, tie in and belay. Then, before we knew it, we were ready to pack it up and head back for dinner. We hiked the rest of the loop up and over, past Monkey Face and back to camp. By the time we arrived, the sun had set and the temperature dropped considerably. We quickly ate dinner and hit the sack.</div><div>.</div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_P1KdUrl7ezL9KsGDjg9_Yg1-m04ZzhobBYsfmvcoyCm8sbxg8ZBVUym_ogNGpbyfum6cGE_JymFu2RWbJEmbNLIMbb6jlP9KX6EZCB4s5_Pd6lTUi0zKGhsmLYMlA1mdBOv7brBq8Dam/s320/CIMG1182.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467245148200066130" />.<br /><div></div><div><div>The next morning, a breakfast of oatmeal and peanut butter provided the fuel for several hours of climbing. We hiked a bit and found a large boulder that wasn't overpopulated. It's called Rope A Dope Rock and offered easy access to anchors and some fun, short routes. I set the anchor and rappelled down, then Todd tied in and had a go. After an unsuccessful attempt at the Crack, I convinced him to try my shoes. Sure enough, with a little bit better traction, he sent it. It was a step up from the previous day's climb. I tried a route called Sting Like a Bee. It had a really cool flake undercling and a reach over shelf near the top. Thankfully Todd proved to be a competent belayer. I fell more than a few times but eventually finished the route. We climbed a few more routes on that face before a short hike and, unfortunately, the journey home.</div><br /><div>.</div><div>I can't wait to get back!</div></div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-18611100933389405112010-04-19T11:15:00.001-07:002010-04-19T11:15:37.298-07:00Worked on the yard<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JQaBo7K73KtjWLqWHXbwaNMfQVqErcQZr4g78yrU8qQ6NLnh7iqjrQ2ZseLXvu3g3xiz2fHrrSXQDB6W-0dvXviTCzMPmk74aHA5-AVPdW-EhHDoUPcBwy0REc5AuBskB_NM69f_7mU4/s1600/photo-737299.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JQaBo7K73KtjWLqWHXbwaNMfQVqErcQZr4g78yrU8qQ6NLnh7iqjrQ2ZseLXvu3g3xiz2fHrrSXQDB6W-0dvXviTCzMPmk74aHA5-AVPdW-EhHDoUPcBwy0REc5AuBskB_NM69f_7mU4/s320/photo-737299.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461913935591858146" /></a></p>We did some yard work this weekend, finally. Flowers, a raised bed <br>which will hold herbs and leafy greens, and I pulled about 400lbs of <br>concrete anchors out of the ground. It's awesome that when they <br>removed the fence, they left the concrete down there. Also awesome: <br>they did it twice. We have a lot more landscaping to do. It should be <br>fun.Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-91781860183157435402010-04-12T10:59:00.001-07:002010-04-12T11:19:46.563-07:00Louie is in the house.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5hSUTgEOj1l52KxHMrYvZ5KjrZPO2yNyzpjnSBcvrEjkZoBDMSpR0-IltDDklqRs4HctZjzlT4FWGqeZy5-aNPaRoNXaFnJqI28y7KNEnhNf6tiIhrmOwc8wQDTR9rcHDo3aoSo0FUVt-/s1600/IMG_1259.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5hSUTgEOj1l52KxHMrYvZ5KjrZPO2yNyzpjnSBcvrEjkZoBDMSpR0-IltDDklqRs4HctZjzlT4FWGqeZy5-aNPaRoNXaFnJqI28y7KNEnhNf6tiIhrmOwc8wQDTR9rcHDo3aoSo0FUVt-/s320/IMG_1259.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459316944881730754" /></a><br /><br />Tiffani's birthday is this month. She wants a puppy - badly. I've wanted another dog for awhile now. We attempted to pick up a new dog on my birthday. After thinking it over for a few hours we decided that we wanted to go pick him up. We were bummed to hear that he had been adopted in the meantime. The sadness we both felt at missing the opportunity to raise that cute puppy affirmed that we were indeed em<img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJ9ZJje3rgPOd-OlwgDcYDmADXgdaGsVJHXf1g5zkM8O-zZJ6YsLLlCmySjJEA-hnejq3MxrZKFD6yjklTmi4rPNyNN1WgZJQ8_d0-dYsnfZH3KJVzQoYR9966T07wUWdAsN8l_Xq73yn/s320/IMG_1249.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459316953619226578" />otionally prepared for the adventure of puppy-hood. So Saturday, we adopted a dachshund/terrier mix. He's adorable. I took him to the vet this morning and all is well. The vet confirmed that he is indeed a dog, and that he is a healthy one at that. He runs and clumsily falls all the time, annoys Gus and shits the size of his head. I'm sort of beginning to think that half of his body is made up of his bowels. I was up every two hours last night to let him out to pee. It was a bit rainy, but every time we went out, he was quick about it. When we got back inside, he laid down in his crate and went right back to sleep. The dachshund in him has him creeping into the darkest corners of the house. Right now he's under the ottoman grumbling in his sleep.<div>.</div><div>Gus is nervous. He doesn't know what's happening. He paces and bites harder than usual while playing. I'm really hoping that in the long run, this is good for him. I think he'll get used to it as the routine becomes more, well, rout</div><div>ine. In the meantime he's gaining a bit of weight from all the positive reinforcement we're throwing his way. So it goes.</div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFeY3v4tLciKeifJhFI5FmlONskDOFNsV4y_GDS1Dot2C-_puo-gbCZNScP8PWm_BriLJS7jnBUbLZx3q6LUaiLAb5XmzVa0G0FA6kmp1kpSZr8NYWJfCE4d_m0vIMCLbO2sIOiau8V3h/s320/IMG_1226.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459316937187172082" />Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-28994985163300911272010-03-17T13:24:00.000-07:002010-03-17T14:17:02.065-07:00Happy dog<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmJlGLDhjYLb1oaHaTj8gDzHXavs084QXez_wuwnjqB9ZJZWcWIrAj-CcDmpTVSw7k5-fxuLY9bfRmD92J4wakzP7jk1cqlg3fewXqKZ_WGRogmUnR5C5aEUjcc02Y-hU-qFkIatGd4KQ/s1600-h/photo-722066.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmJlGLDhjYLb1oaHaTj8gDzHXavs084QXez_wuwnjqB9ZJZWcWIrAj-CcDmpTVSw7k5-fxuLY9bfRmD92J4wakzP7jk1cqlg3fewXqKZ_WGRogmUnR5C5aEUjcc02Y-hU-qFkIatGd4KQ/s320/photo-722066.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449714878708888850" /></a></p>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-3901612755098283132010-02-25T13:55:00.000-08:002010-02-25T13:56:52.793-08:00Soda Firing - Kiln Log plus notes<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">2-18-10 Soda Firing</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">NOTES<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The kiln was stacked rather densely. 5-6" posts through out the botton and center. A one-inch gap between the shelf columns was maintained. We staggered the height of adjacent shelves with a height differential of at least two three inches. The bag wall was stacked with two large planters, lip to lip, and two large pieces side by side. Replication of this without said large pots could be accomplished by increasing the height of the bag wall approximately 18 inches. Much of the work was unglazed. Some pieces had underglaze decoration. A few pieces were glazed with Shino and a few with Woo Blue II.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The experiment for this firing was the use of a sandblaster to introduce dry soda ash as cone 8 fell. The sandblaster functioned well. Improvement can be made to the container for the soda ash and the hose that draws the material into the gun. The hose tended to move to the side of the bucket and suck air. Perhaps some sort of bell housing at the end of the hose would keep the opening towards the bottom of the bucket.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The soda ash was introduced by sliding the 3' nozzle into the kiln and firing the gun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We varied the depth of the charge by sliding the nozzle back and forth, further into the kiln. In hindsight, this was most likely not productive enough to counter the cost of the effect. By Spraying deep into the firebox, we blasted the far wall with enough pressure and accumulation to create a basketball-sized crater approximately 1/2" deep. An aura of soda residue nearly twice the diameter and not nearly as dramatically eroded was evident surrounding the crater, which I believe is the result of firing soda from far away. This suggests that spraying from far away not only disperses the wear on the firebox, but also allows the hot air to attack and volatize more of the soda ash, more quickly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>We were short on time, so our initial charge was 5lbs. We sprayed and closed the damper to 1/2 for 10 mins to allow the soda ash to circulate and accumulate. After 10 minutes, we opened the damper to full and cleared the ware chamber for 3 minutes before introducing another 3lbs of soda ash. Again we closed the damper for 10 minutes to allow the soda ash to work. After 10 more minutes we cleared the chamber for 3 minutes and sprayed a final 2lbs. At that point the damper was left at full open and we continued to attempt to maintain heat for the last 30 minutes of the firing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">LOG<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">7am<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>A small fire was started in the firebox to begin heating the kiln and also to build a coal bed. All ports are closed with the exception of the bottom left mouse hole. The difference between the bottom and the top of the kiln is fluctuating between 100 and 150 degrees - hot on top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The damper is closed to 1/4 at 8am in an attempt to hold a bit of the heat and perhaps even out the ware chamber.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">9am<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>stoking begins at the stoke port. The bottom left mouse hole is closed to 1/2. All other mouse holes are OPENed to 1/2. At 9:30 the propane/PRIMARY ports are opened to 1/2.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">10am<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The coal bed is lower than we would like. Having so much air from the mouse holes has caused the coals to burn out and/or cool. We noticed a substantial decrease in temperature gain between 10am and 10:30am. From 7am to 10am, we had gained just over 1000 degrees. From 10 to 10:30 the increase was a mere 79 degrees. PRIMARY ports are closed to 1/4 on the left and 1/2 on the right. Mouse holes are closed with the exception of the center hole, which is left at 1/2. At 10:50 the damper is opened to full open, and the center mouse hole is closed. Temperature gain picks up almost immediately. <u>Wood consumption doubles.</u><br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>By 11am the ware is starting to show some color. PRIMARY air is opened to full.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">12:30pm<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Damper closed to 1/4 to try to even out the ware chamber. Cone O8 is falling on top and Cone O14 is down on the bottom.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">1pm<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><u>BioDiesel</u> - the center burner is lit. ((1 pencil lead thickness of fuel // slow drip of water)) Within 20 minutes the right burner was ready to light. ((1 pencil lead of fuel // slow drip of water)) 1:35pm 3rd burner is lit. PRIMARY air is closed to 1/2 on the left.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>We made the mistake of slowing everything down during the lighting of the fuel. Stoking should continue as before to maintain and increase temperature gain. During the 35 minutes that it took for us to light the burners, the temperature gained 9 degrees. Yes - 9. <span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><u>Beware of the flames shooting out of the burner ports when the stoke hole is opened.<o:p></o:p></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1:45pm<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Fuel mixture is 1 - 1.5 pencil leads thickness with a fast drip. The increase in water prevented the fuel from creating large amounts of smoke, although temperature gain was modest. Damper is opened to full.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">2pm<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>The ware chamber is mostly even heat. Cone O4 showing soft on the top and the bottom.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">3pm<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Somehow we caused the kiln to stall. We didn't change anything except crew. Notes indicate a steady stoking pattern of approximately a silver dollar thickness of wood every 10 seconds based on smoke. Coal stirring was happening every 30 -40 minutes, but probably should have happened every 15 -20. Mouse holes are opened to 1/2. <u>Temperature remains constant until 7pm. No gain</u>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">7pm<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>During the previous four hours, we had noticed that the temperature rose during lags in stoking, for instance while I filled the bio-diesel container, nobody stoked, and the temperature rose nearly 80 degrees during the 5 minutes that I was on the ladder. Frustration was building at this point and with time running short. I opted to shut everything down for a few minutes to collect my thoughts. Burners were shut down. No wood was added. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Temperature was 1911 degrees; 40 degrees cooler than at 3pm.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>We had been trading off the stoking and it really wasn't consistent for a couple of hours. People were coming and going on the kiln yard and a lot of conversation was happening. When asked if the coal bed had been stirred, we would look at each other for the answer, because we really weren't in sync.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Just after 7, I asked that nobody discuss the pyrometer, or tell me the temperature. I asked one of my teammates to chop wood and the other to take readings and notes on the half hour. I took over the stoking for the remainder of the firing. I began by focusing on the fire itself. When It was bright, I added wood; first to the stoke hole to pre-heat. The door to the hole was left open during the pre-heating. I would throw the whole bundle of wood into the firebox and immediately stir the coals then rearrange the wood in the firebox and load up the stoke hole again. When the fire was clean on the inside of the chamber, I shoved the preheated wood in again and immediately stirred then rearranged. The time between stokes was probably less than 5 minutes but that time was filled with the task of stirring the coals and the firebox to allow as much air circulation as possible. AGAIN I was looking for a bright flame in the firebox and not lingering smoke. By 7:30 I was ready to turn the burners back on, but I did so with trepidation. Rather than turn all three on, I turned on the two outside burners and at a very low setting. ((1 pencil lead thickness // drip)) The burners were left at that setting for the remainder of the firing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">8pm<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>By 8pm the flames coming from the top of the chimney were righteously active. Cone 5 was softening on top and Cone 8 was down on the bottom.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>At 8:30pm Cone 10 was soft on the bottom, but Cone 8 was still standing on top. At this point we began adding soda ash as outlined above. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Once soda introduction began, the rhythm changed. Soda was added at 15 minute intervals while rings were pulled every 10 minutes (since we had more rings than we had time this made sense and occupied the crew)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">9:45pm<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Cone 11 was completely down on the bottom and Cone 12 was looking dangerous, so we opted to stop the firing. Burners were shut down and all ports were closed. We pulled the last ring and cleaned up the yard. The damper was closed all the way, but when flames began exiting the ware chamber and licking the roof of the shelter I decided to open it as much as was necessary to prevent a catastrophy.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">Conclusions<o:p></o:p></b></p> <span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Cambria;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1"> </span>The results of the firing were close to what we expected when we shut down the kiln. The top of the kiln was cooler, while the bottom was hot. Ash build-up on the lower pots was beautiful but ran off the pots and fused many of the wads to the glassy flow of soot, soda and ash. In the center of the ware chamber, the pots were beautiful. Glazes melted, a healthy dose of soda ash was evident and color had developed. The pieces at the top of the kiln were cold and dry. The directionality of the soda and the heat was evident as some pots were juicy on one side and very dry on the other.<br /><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>In future firings, I believe it would beneficial to add soda ash in smaller increments. The initial 5lb burst was an unfortunate necessity due to lack of time, and the amount of directional accumulation is, at least partially, the result of that. Additionally, if using the sandblaster, it is completely unnecessary to insert the nozzle any deeper than the spray port. As I stated before, I believe that if the nozzle is just barely inserted into the firebox, the soda ash will combust more thoroughly and spread more evenly.<span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span></span><!--EndFragment-->Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-75400417460579452482010-02-19T00:58:00.000-08:002010-02-19T01:16:58.281-08:00Soda FIring<div>Woke up this morning with ten minutes to get to campus to fire a kiln. Arrived, fired all day. Stalled at cone 8. 3 hours passed without any temperature gain. Turned everything off and started over. Got part of the kiln up to cone 12 and part of it stayed at cone 8. I'm going to make t shirts that have cone packs where everything is down but 8. Cone 8 has been my nemesis for the last 12 hours. Overall, the firing was enjoyable. We sprayed soda ash into the kiln using a sandblaster. 11 pounds in all. It was dry and we witnessed some very juicy results rather quickly. We fired for a total of 15 hours using wood and bio-diesel as fuel. The kiln will cool slowly and we'll unload on Monday.</div><div>.</div><div>After the firing, I got in the jeep and realized that I'd left the lights on for 15 hours. The battery was completely dead. I tried to roll start, but without any luck. My phone was dead and so I had to walk to a nearby business that was open where I asked if I could plug my phone in. I called roadside assistance, who were kind enough to keep me on hold for 24 minutes only to tell me finally that they couldn't find anybody to come help me. It was 11 pm by this time. I called Tiffani, woke her up and she thankfully got out of bed and came to give me a jump. The jeep wouldn't jump so I rolled it to the bottom of the hill and locked it up.</div><div>.</div><div>Some ginger tea and a sandwich has me feeling much better. I'm off to bed. I'm so excited for Monday morning's kiln opening. Stay tuned for pictures, unless it's a terrible mess.</div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-63096132650009706232010-01-01T18:18:00.000-08:002010-01-01T18:37:49.736-08:00Hello 2010This year, I decided to skip all of my traditional new years' superstitious activities. I usually keep a few bucks in my pocket overnight, among other things. I almost always have a few resolutions, such as put out a record or ride 2000 miles on my bike. This last year has been a tough one, though and I decided to "wing it" in 2010. No resolutions, no mystical meals, not a single plan.<div>.</div><div>So far so good! I woke up feeling less sick than yesterday, and spent 6 hours working on the bathroom. I've been sick for what seems like months, so it was tough to spend that long working, but I accomplished a lot. This project, the bathroom, has changed drastically from the time we started to now. Initially, I was just going to shim the shower so that it drained properly. Upon pulling up a bit of the floor to formulate a game plan, I discovered that the floor was completely rotten. I proceeded to pull the linoleum up, strip out the second layer of linoleum that had been glued to a "subfloor" that was sitting on top of a layer of vinyl tile, probably from 1963. Newsflash! - when you trap a piece of wood between two layers of plastic and introduce warm water, bad things happen. So I pulled the entire floor out, layed down a new subfloor, cut the bottom 6 inches of the wall out and replaced it with mold resistant drywall. I layed down a moisture barrier as well as a layer of hardi backer. Tiff painted the walls and now we're ready to tile. We're doing a subway tile with gray grout. We picked up some new stuff, a new sink and cabinet from Ikea. We're pretty excited to have received some christmas cash which is making the project a lot more fun than it could have been. We flirted with the idea of constructing a tile shower, but we decided that it wasn't realistic since classes start again in a few days. Spring break, we'll start work on that.</div><div>.</div><div>2009 was a rough year, but it was good too. My Mom got cancer AGAIN. She also received a bone marrow transplant and kicked cancer to the curb. Tiffani and I bought a house. Clearly the best thing about 2009 was the addition of Gus to our family. Who knew we could love a dog so much? My school work took a dive, I spent most of the fall with the flu and rode my bike less than I hope to. My youngest sister lived with us for a few months which turned out to be something of a disaster. Now she's 18 yrs old and on her own. Best of luck to her.</div><div>.</div><div>Gotta run to the hardware store for a few supplies. Farewell 2009.</div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-83372704191122239032009-11-20T13:15:00.000-08:002009-11-20T13:19:50.788-08:00Or, to put it another way. . .<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(34, 34, 34); white-space: pre; font-family:Geneva, Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:10px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10px; "><object width="480" height="390"><param name="movie" value="http://www.xtranormal.com/site_media/players/jwplayer.swf"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><param name="flashvars" value="height=390&width=480&file=http://newvideos.xtranormal.com/standard/d126c62e-d616-11de-b387-003048d69c21_4_standard_medium-flv.flv&image=http://newvideos.xtranormal.com/standard/d126c62e-d616-11de-b387-003048d69c21_4_standard_poster.jpg&link=http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/5705775&searchbar=false&autostart=false"><embed src="http://www.xtranormal.com/site_media/players/jwplayer.swf" width="480" height="390" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="height=390&width=480&file=http://newvideos.xtranormal.com/standard/d126c62e-d616-11de-b387-003048d69c21_4_standard_medium-flv.flv&image=http://newvideos.xtranormal.com/standard/d126c62e-d616-11de-b387-003048d69c21_4_standard_poster.jpg&link=http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/5705775&searchbar=false&autostart=false"></embed></object><object width="480" height="390"><param name="movie" value="http://www.xtranormal.com/site_media/players/embedded-xnl-stats.swf"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.xtranormal.com/site_media/players/embedded-xnl-stats.swf" width="1" height="1" allowscriptaccess="always"></embed></object></span></span></span>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-83854263580378736842009-11-18T00:53:00.000-08:002009-11-18T01:02:18.981-08:00Riding BikesAbout 24 miles on the bike today has me realizing that I've been a terrible environmentalist lately and even worse, a non-cyclist. I love my new vehicle. I bought a jeep this summer. I've wanted one since I was probably 6 or 7, when I first saw Terminator. Sarah Conner at the end, in the jeep, having her picture taken ingrained in me that image of a vehicle with no top and no doors and rugged - something you could take anywhere. M.A.S.H. was the next major influence in my love of jeeps. I used to watch it when I was aloud to stay up late. Sometimes in the summer, I had to go to bed at 10 o'clock. I knew it was bedtime when the first lines of the M.A.S.H. theme song came on. I would lie in bed and listen to the dialog, understanding nothing, and wishing that I was sitting next to my dad watching one of his favorite shows. That being said, it's a sorry excuse for spending hundreds of dollars on gas, spewing greenhouse gasses and tearing up any "unimproved" road within sight. Not to mention the mud puddles. . . It feels great to ride. It will not feel quite as great tomorrow when the lactic acid re-introduces itself, but then, that's what recovery rides are all about.<div>.</div><div>go ride your bike! it's only cold for the first mile.</div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-82830230891948630212009-11-08T19:42:00.000-08:002009-11-08T19:43:09.514-08:00Forge<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6uBWmPinXVp7P6JAjo5296qQcUm9vuDAWdhe_r84behIFSd7a2EATiNVYeJk7eZlpliqO9kbvyipr_J4ojURj8VnuIcTBIXpBiWx0PnV7u4SNormv94zRmcypDmjF1biWd9-Xs26R6j0/s1600-h/photo-789515.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6uBWmPinXVp7P6JAjo5296qQcUm9vuDAWdhe_r84behIFSd7a2EATiNVYeJk7eZlpliqO9kbvyipr_J4ojURj8VnuIcTBIXpBiWx0PnV7u4SNormv94zRmcypDmjF1biWd9-Xs26R6j0/s320/photo-789515.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401944391751533266" /></a></p>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-29191730184468715742009-10-31T15:35:00.000-07:002009-10-31T15:36:07.298-07:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMffRva3cif9w39pJ_nMZAKwCf6509pDwsvMTHcw5tsWlR_mKaBYZUJEto9rf7qJTuFf8IKWVVnB1Fhb-VTavx97lpvGiP1NlJM3XIbX0bGA5ufWVG3hoygkgTte1bOvNoXWd2nKU1jU9/s1600-h/photo-767299.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMffRva3cif9w39pJ_nMZAKwCf6509pDwsvMTHcw5tsWlR_mKaBYZUJEto9rf7qJTuFf8IKWVVnB1Fhb-VTavx97lpvGiP1NlJM3XIbX0bGA5ufWVG3hoygkgTte1bOvNoXWd2nKU1jU9/s320/photo-767299.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398896586822923010" /></a></p>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-56330257942583900352009-10-31T15:14:00.000-07:002009-10-31T15:34:11.280-07:00Brockton, MassHad my years supply of fast food yesterday in Airports. First a quick Wendy's hamburger in the Portland Airport, then after an uneventful flight to Chicago, and a really terribly windy landing, a cheeseburger from McDonalds at the Midway Airport. I had a beer in the airport that was made in Chicago. I think it was called "315". It was wheat-y. The flight to Providence was kind of lame. I was seated next to a family with a baby. I had purchased a copy of Fahrenheit 451 in Portland and I finished it on the takeoff from Providence. Right about the time I finished the book, the dad started snoring next to me. Lame. Luckily I had headphones and a bloody mary. Arrived in Providence, got the car and drove to Brockton. Traffic was bad, but I made it safely to Mike's place. He was up still, which is impressive cause he is a teacher. By the time we both fell asleep at close to 6am, I think he had been up for about 24 hours. A few beers, some good tunes and lots of talking eventually led to a Ramones documentary and some restful sleep.<br />.<br />Eggs, potatoes, black beans and some veggie sausage with toast for breakfast plus two pints of coffee had us on a motorcycle flying through the autumnal bliss of east coast and 65 degrees. Stopped into the Fuller Craft Museum to try for a sneak at the new Warren MacKenzie exhibit. No luck on a walk through, but we watched as they put up the fonts and set out some of the most beautiful pots I've seen. Most surprising to me was the scale. I didn't realize that some of those pieces are so large. I like big pots, and to me MacKenzie's work seems perfect at any scale, but I was really surprised and delighted to see large beautiful shapes. I wanted very badly to pick them up and turn them around. They really becon the veiwer to interact.<br />.<br />Scary music and trick or treaters. Horror flicks in an hour. A Yankees win and good company tonight. Fragment sentences and kids in the street. Brockton, Mass.Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-1904725804703241402009-10-21T15:41:00.000-07:002009-10-21T15:48:20.037-07:00Not 100%, but whateverSpent most of the last week feeling crappy. Body aches, sore throat etc. . . Tiffani most definitely had the swine flu. I slept for 15 hours last night and 13 the night before. When I woke up this afternoon, I took my temp and it was a bit under 98.6, so I guess I'm healthy. Problem is, I still feel bad. Oh well, it's time to get on with my life! Just walked Gus around the neighborhood and broke a serious sweat, so I guess I'll be taking it easy.<div>.</div><div>The show at the MK Gallery is coming down this weekend. I'm glad to have had the opportunity to show some of my work. I think over all the show was a success. I don't think anybody sold anything, but we received a lot of positive feedback.</div><div>.</div><div>I mixed up some clay bodies last week in ceramics. I'm going to go to school today for the first time this week and slake them down. I mixed a grolleg porcelain body, a woodfire body and a 50/50 fireclay/ball clay mix. I may have already mentioned this. . . Did I mention my brain isn't working properly? It's not. Now that Gus is walked and I'm exhausted, it's time to head to class. Less than two weeks before I head to Boston for the MacKenzie exhibit. Man, am I excited!</div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-62460996394373847612009-10-13T11:31:00.000-07:002009-10-13T11:42:47.902-07:00Tuesday is half fullWoke up late. Gus is about out of food, so he and I made a trip to the pet store for some grub. Next, Tabor for some frolicking on the hillside. He seems a little sad. I think he is fed up with the school, work, art schedule that has me leaving the house around 8:30 am and arriving home around 9:45 pm. I'm pretty sure Tiff is fed up too. Luckily she has Gus, and Gus has her. He still gets to go to the dog park nearly every day to play and poop. I'm going to try out the new max line today. It says online that the trip from my place to campus should take 40 minutes which is 5 minutes less than it takes me on my bike; I'm skeptical.<div>.</div><div>I've been very busy, the sculpture club budget was due last week. I wrote it up, submitted it and it was accepted! That's pretty exciting news. We've already had our first event of the year, and now it's time for our first meeting, a bowling party. I'm trying to organize a team sculpture competition for the Spring. I'm not sure if I've bitten off more than I can chew here, but it seems daunting.</div><div>.</div><div>I'm going to start mixing my own clay. It's expensive to buy premixed clay. I can easily throw more than I can afford. Plus, I'm not super excited about our options at school. Georgies has a few bodies that I've tried and liked, but I think I'm paying mostly for water, and I've got plenty of that falling outside. . . First up will be a very simple mix of Fireclay and Ball clay. It's a combination that Peter Voulkos used at the Bray. He threw big and his forms are spectacular. I hope that the clay body will inspire me, or at least enable me to step it up a bit.</div><div>.</div><div>Fall is here, it's cold in Portland. Its raining and very windy. I'm already looking forward to Spring.</div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-84773958183937355142009-09-22T11:55:00.000-07:002009-09-22T12:07:43.761-07:00All the leaves are brown, leaves are brownIt's a beautiful sunny day in Portland and I'm about to climb into an allergy pill. Sunny and warm and windy as hell. It seems like all of the musty summer goodness has been unearthed and is being shuttled around town by the pesky winds.<div>.</div><div>Unexpectedly got the day off work. Woke up at 7am to feed Gus and then went back to bed. Slept until 9:45! It's been a nice little morning. So far my duties have included: Pet the dog, drink the coffee, play the guitar and search the internet for information on casting basalt - in order of most to least important.</div><div>.</div><div>First day of ceramics was last night. Made a few things, including a tea pot that is part of a group project. This is a first in Kowkie's class. She had us make the parts, and then we'll pick different pieces from different peoples pots and assemble them. I think it's a pretty cool idea. Whatever I end up with, I think I'll try to recreate it for a real project.</div><div>.</div><div>This week is the last week of summer before the term starts at PSU. I'm excited to start classes, and a little nervous too. This seasonal transition always hits me a little harder than the others. I remember most vividly this transition when I was a kid. I was always bummed that the light didn't last as long and that the air began to encourage layers. Meh. I'm glad that it's hot this week. One more week of driving in the jeep with the top and doors off, in relative comfort. This week also will see the sculpture club installing our first show at the MK Gallery on campus. I have a piece to include and as the date approaches, I'm noticing that I'm feeling nervous about my contribution. The word "anachronistic" keeps swimming around in my head. I've never shown a piece of sculpture outside of a classroom setting. I'm sure it will be fine. The chances of somebody looking at my work and then hitting or shooting me is pretty slim. It's not <i>that</i> good.</div><div>.</div><div>Oh! I think I just heard something. . . yep, it was the dog park calling Gus. I'd better help him out with that.</div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5467202720439993993.post-87697687190793530322009-09-13T15:13:00.000-07:002009-09-13T15:33:11.118-07:00Saturday camping trip?Rolled out of town around noon. Meant to leave much earlier. Picked up Kyle in McMinneville and headed west on a two lane road. Within 20 miles the road was dirt and logging roads split off every couple hundred yards. We took the jeep up into the hills and after a while of driving came upon a puddle that was pretty large. I accelerated into the puddle and made it to the bottom, before water rushed into the cab. It was much deeper than we thought. Managed to keep the engine running and Kelly got out and pushed while I threw it into 4-wheel drive. For a couple minutes, we thought we were going to be there for awhile. With Kelly's help and the 4wd, we got out of the puddle. As I was backing out of it, I saw some plastic floating near the surface. It turns out the water had knocked a bunch of stuff loose under the hood. The jeep kept running though, and we were able to take everything that was hanging, completely off. Made it past the puddle by driving around the edge. It almost pulled me back in to the center. A little while later, covered in mud and feeling pretty excited about things, we decided to head to the beach for a some ocean time. It was sunny and warm on the east side of the mountains but by the time we hit the west side, it was in the 60's. We were still wet from the puddle and the wind was chilly. We stopped in at a roadside bar and had some really fantastic fish. They'd probably caught it earlier that day.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Woke up early this morning pretty groggy. It had rained during the night and we were in for some more cold driving back to Portland. The sun finally came out shortly after we passed Clackamas, 3 miles from home. Fun trip. Short, but fun.</div>Tractor Operatorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07795664959960499303noreply@blogger.com0